


An Early Christmas

by sparkle731



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-08
Updated: 2012-11-08
Packaged: 2017-11-18 06:15:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkle731/pseuds/sparkle731
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hutch finds a reason to celebrate Christmas</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Early Christmas

 

Hutch put the final touches on the lush Christmas tree sitting in the middle of his living room. The tree was artificial but it would have to do. With the decorations, twinkling lights and tinsel, it looked beautiful. Brightly wrapped packages were piled high under the tree. He glanced around the room to make everything was ready. A plate sitting on the coffee table held a variety of Christmas treats: candy canes, chocolates, and decorated cookies. The air was filled with the aroma of a roasting turkey with bread stuffing, sweet potatoes, and hot rolls. Hutch smiled brightly. Everything was perfect.

The only light in the room came from the softly flickering lights on the tree, giving the apartment a warm, welcoming appearance. Turning on his heel, Hutch quietly made his way to the bedroom at the rear of the apartment. Starsky was lying on his left side in the middle of the king sized waterbed, sleeping peacefully, with one arm resting at his side and his other arm lying protectively across his waist. Even in the dim light of the bedroom, the scars from the numerous surgeries the brunet had to endure in order to save his life were clearly visible. Starsky’s chest hair was finally growing back, camouflaging the worst of the scars.

Hutch felt a tightening in his throat as he gazed at his slumbering friend. He had come so close to losing Starsky forever just three months ago when he was gunned down in the police parking garage. The brunet had spent almost three months in the hospital, struggling to regain his strength and his stamina. He was still much too thin, his once trim, muscular form gaunt and emaciated. He had only been out of the hospital for three days and Hutch had appointed himself as Starsky’s primary caregiver. He had taken an extended leave of absence from his job and moved in with his partner to help nurse him back to health.

Starsky was still heavily medicated and spent most of his time sleeping. Brief periods of restful sleep were precious to the brunet since his waking hours were filled with more pain than Hutch could even begin to imagine. Moving to the side of the bed, Hutch knelt down so that he was level with Starsky’s line of vision. He reached out and gently stroked the side of the olive toned face that still had the sickly pallor of someone who’s been confined indoors. 

“Hey, babe…” Hutch said quietly, using that soft soothing voice he reserved solely for Starsky when he was injured and in pain. “Wake up…open those beautiful blue eyes for me.”

Starsky’s thick dark lashes fluttered for a moment and then his eyes slowly opened, the pupils glazed and slightly unfocused from the medications. A slow, lazy smile tugged at the edges of Starsky’s lips as his gaze settled on Hutch’s face. “Hey,” he said in a raspy, hoarse voice still heavy with sleep.

“You feel like getting up for a little while?” Hutch asked “I’ve got a surprise for you.”  
A hint of that old familiar sparkle shimmered in the sapphire eyes at the mention of a surprise. Starsky started to nod, changing his mind abruptly when the movement caused a sharp pain to shoot through his neck and into his head. He tried to hide the wince of pain from Hutch but the blond noticed it immediately. A large warm hand settled on his shoulder comforting.

“Just give me a minute, okay?” Starsky said, taking a slow, shallow breath. He smiled at Hutch to reassure him that he was okay. He knew that Hutch was still terrified whenever Starsky was in severe pain, afraid that he was going to die. Starsky took another slow breath and nodded to show Hutch he was ready to move.

Hutch bounced to his feet and gently slipped his left arm underneath Starsky’s shoulders. With infinite care, he eased Starsky into a sitting position on the edge of the bed, moving carefully to avoid causing him any unnecessary pain or discomfort. Starsky caught his breath sharply, closing his eyes for a moment against the vertigo that made the room spin around him at the change in his position. He leaned forward into his partner’s embrace, letting his head rest against the broad chest, feeling safe and secure.

A burning pain ripped through his damaged chest, making his heart beat faster and sweat break out on his forehead. Gritting his teeth, he rode out the wave of pain until it eased enough for him to move again. Silently, Hutch tightened his embrace, offering Starsky as much comfort and support as he could, the best way he knew how. Touch had always been a firm cornerstone of their relationship and they both relished it, needing that contact with each other the same way they needed the very air that they breathed. 

“Ready, babe?” Hutch whispered into the soft thick curls that brushed against his face.  
Starsky nodded without speaking, bracing himself to move again as he felt Hutch straightening up, pulling Starsky to his feet at the same time. Starsky couldn’t help the tiny yelp of pain that escaped his lips as he leaned heavily against Hutch to keep his balance.

Keeping one arm wrapped tightly around the brunet’s waist, Hutch began slowly guiding him into the living room. He kept his steps small and slow, knowing how difficult walking still was for the injured brunet at his side. Hutch smiled when he heard Starsky’s gasp of surprise when he caught sight of the brightly decorated living room.

Gently, Hutch eased Starsky down onto the sofa, arranging pillows around him so that he was as comfortable as possible. Starsky turned to look at Hutch, his eyes sparkling with pleasure as the first genuine grin Hutch had seen since the shooting turned up the corners of his mouth. “Hutch, what is all this?” he asked in an awed voice.

“It’s Christmas, babe and it’s all for you.” Hutch replied with a huge grin on his own face. It had been well worth the effort to see Starsky looking happy again.

“I hate to tell you this, Blondie…but it’s August, not December.” Starsky said with a slight chuckle that was quickly cut off as his chest and stomach protested the gesture.  
“I don’t care,” Hutch said “To me it’s Christmas because you’re here and you’re alive…and you’re gonna be okay.” His voice cracked with emotion and he ducked his head to hide the tears that suddenly sprang to his eyes. Raising his head, he locked eyes with his partner and said firmly, “Christmas came early this year…for both of us.”

Starsky’s gaze darted to the brightly wrapped packages under the tree. “Are those all for me?” he whispered, his own voice ragged with unshed tears of gratitude.

“You bet they are. What’s Christmas without presents?” Hutch said. He moved away from the sofa and over to the tree. Gathering up the packages, he carefully sat them on the coffee table in front of Starsky. “Go ahead open ‘em.”

Starsky’s eyes clouded with sadness as he looked at his gleeful partner. “I can’t…” he said in a choked voice, frustrated and angry at his physical limitations.

“Damn!” Hutch exclaimed, sinking down on the sofa beside his best friend. “I’m sorry, babe…I guess I wasn’t thinking…”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Starsky chided him mildly. “I just need a little help. Okay?”

“Okay.” Hutch said, reaching for one of the packages and putting it into Starsky’s lap.  
He carefully pulled loose the wrapping paper so that Starsky could open the package with one hand. He still had limited use of his left arm and hand which, unfortunately, was also his dominant side.

Starsky pulled aside the paper to find a photo album filled with pictures of him and Hutch, both together and individually, that had been taken over the years, all painstakingly mounted and dated. The last photo in the album was one that had been taken just two days before the shooting.

One by one, Hutch handed Starsky the packages, helping him to open each one. He had bought Starsky a new watch since his last one had been broken when he was shot and a heavy gold chain that he knew Starsky would like. He also bought him several books he knew Starsky would enjoy reading when he was well enough to concentrate. In the meantime, Hutch could always read them to him. He also bought him several record albums that Starsky could still enjoy even while he was in bed. The last gift was the one that was the most special one of all. Inside the package was Starsky’s brown leather bomber jacket that Starsky had been wearing the day he was shot. Hutch had searched all over the city until he found a leather smith who had been able to repair the ragged bulletholes in the back. They were still noticeable if you knew exactly where to look but the tailor had done a good job patching them.

Starsky’s eyes filled with tears as he gently caressed a sleeve of the jacket. He ran a hand over his face to compose himself and then looked at his partner, his face filled with joy and love. “Thanks, Blondie.” He said in a ragged voice. “I feel bad because I didn’t get you anything.”

“Yes, you did.” Hutch said with a smile, gently reaching out to cup Starsky’s face in his hand. “You gave me the best present I could ever ask for. The only one I’ll ever want or need…” he choked back tears as he continued. “You lived. That makes it Christmas every damned day as far as I’m concerned.”

“With presents?” Starsky asked with a devilish grin that made Hutch laugh. “I could get used to that.”

“Don’t press your luck, Gordo.” Hutch warned him with a wave of the Hutchinson finger. “I cooked a turkey and all the fixings. You feel up to eating a little?”

“It’ll just come back up again.” Starsky said with a sigh, as he leaned his head against Hutch’s shoulder. “But it sure smells good.”

“Maybe you can try a bit later.” Hutch said. Since the shooting and the subsequent surgeries, Starsky’s stomach had been slow to recover. He could eat regular food but only in small amounts and there were certain foods he still had to avoid. Even then, he was apt to throw up whatever he ate, due to his digestive problems from the shooting and the various medications he still had to take.

“Hutch…” Starsky said in a sleepy voice. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Gordo.” Hutch whispered, brushing a gentle kiss over those dark curls. He felt Starsky shift positions to get comfortable as he dozed off leaning on his best friend’s shoulder. Hutch smiled faintly as he started making plans to celebrate New Year’s Eve the following weekend.


End file.
